Earlier this morning we had a conversation with author Michael Allen Dymmoch and talked about her second in series mystery Courtin' Murder in West Wheeling (Diversion Books; May 2016 trade paperback and ebook formats) and now we are pleased to share an excerpt from it.
— ♦ —
WHEN I WENT TO COLLECT SKIP, he was leanin' against the back of a flat bed farm truck parked on the road shoulder by the West Wheelin' Grammar School drive. He spotted my cruiser, grabbed his backpack an' stepped to the rear passenger-side door. He opened it an' threw the pack on the seat, then slammed the back door an' jerked open the front one.
"I'll drive."
"Day after I'm elected Pope."
Skip got in an' shut his door. "Father Ernie know you're dissin' his church like that?"
I didn't get to answer 'cause just then we was rudely interrupted by the crack of a huntin' rifle comin' from the direction of the interstate.
"Yikes!" Skip reached over to switch on the pull-over lights.
"Put your seat belt on," I said. Soon's he did, I put the pedal to the floor.
The police radio was unusually quiet as we headed for the highway. Which is pro'bly why Skip reached for the mike. I beat him to it, but I didn't use it. "No use makin' a federal case of it 'fore we know it ain't just someone huntin' varmints."
When we come in sight of the highway, I could see a familiar pick-up parked on a hill above the right-a-way. It was parallel to the road an' half hid by a stand of fence-pole trees. I let up on the accelerator an' shut off the lights.
"What're you doin'?" Skip demanded.
"Hard to sneak up on a feller all lit up like a disaster response."
"Who we sneakin' up on?"
Willy Donner was just puttin' his rifle back in the truck when we stopped behind it on the dirt road that skirted the trees.
"Hold it, Willy." I put the cruiser in park an' told Skip to stay put. I put my hat on as I got outta the car, an' put my keys in my pocket.
Willy waited with the gun restin' in the crook of his arm, pointin' down. He looked uncomfortable as a man caught with his pants down around his ankles. He didn't look at me as he said, "What's up, Sheriff?"
I put my hand on the butt of my sidearm an' nodded at his rifle. "I'm gonna have to take that in for evidence."
"Evidence of what?"
I give him the look my Ma used on me when she caught me up to no good. "You know what."
Willy thought for a second or two, then shrugged.
I kept my eyes on his, didn't say nothin'. Eventually, he shifted the rifle an' handed it to me, stock first.
"Much obliged." I removed the shells an' put 'em in my pocket 'fore I locked the gun in my trunk. Willy followed me to the cruiser an' watched. After I closed the trunk, he kept starin' at it, like a dog does when you close the fridge on a treat.
I kept quiet an' waited. Out the corner of my eye, I could see Skip squirmin' inside the cruiser. Willy looked at Skip — no help there. Willy looked to either side of me and at my boots. He looked over at the highway, then down at his feet. He kicked the dirt of the roadbed. Finally, he glanced up at me an' said, "What?"
"Why'd you do it?" I wasn't sure what he'd done, but he didn't know that.
"I couldn't help it." I waited. "What'd they expect, puttin' them big red targets on the sides?"
What he was talkin' about hit me like a highway head- on. "I expect you to remember that there's people drivin' those trucks. An' people drivin' all around 'em. An' unless the trucks are full of bricks, your slugs could tear through the trucks and kill someone."
"Aw... I didn't think — "
"Yeah. Well I'm keepin' your gun 'til you learn to think."
"You ain't gonna arrest me?"
"Not unless someone signs a complaint."
He looked relieved, then annoyed. "What'm I gonna use to run varmints off?"
"I suggest you get a dog."
He sighed an' nodded.
"Oh. An' Willy, if anybody turns up shot in Boone County, you're gonna be at the top of my suspect list."
"Why'd you take his gun?" Skip asked me when I got back in the cruiser.
"Some people are too dumb to own a gun."
Skip ain't dumb hisself, so he knowed I wasn't gonna tell 'im what Willy done. But he wasn't gonna let it go without givin' me some grief. "How'm I gonna grow up to be a sheriff like you if you won't teach me about the job?"
"Time you're growed up enough to be sheriff, it won't be legal to be like me. 'Sides, they got schools for sherif n'."
He slouched down in his seat and stared out the window for the rest of the trip. When we got home, he grabbed his pack outta the back seat and told me, "You'll have to take care of the jackass, Pappy. I got homework."
Saturday mornin', I let Skip sleep in while I swung by the state cop shop.
Trooper Yates was at the front desk. When he spotted me he called out, "Heads up. Here comes trouble."
"That's Sheriff Trouble to you, Yates."
"What do you need, Sheriff?"
"You had any complaints about vehicles bein' shot at on the highway?"
He shook his head. "Not recently. You know something we oughta know?"
"I know I ain't lookin' to stir up trouble. You had any more hijackin's?"
Yates shook his head, then knocked wood on the Formica counter.
I pointed to where he'd knocked. "Lemme know if that works."
— ♦ —
Photo provided courtesy of
Michael Allen Dymmoch
In preparation for a writing career, Michael Allen Dymmoch took classes on law enforcement, "Gunshot and Stab Wounds", crime scene investigation, and screenwriting. She's attended autopsies and worked as a baby sitter, veterinary assistant, medical research tech, recycler, and professional driver. Michael has served as President and Secretary of the Midwest Chapter of Mystery Writers of America and newsletter editor for the Chicagoland Chapter of Sisters in Crime. Michael currently lives and writes in Chicago.
For more information about the author, please visit her author page on Goodreads.
— ♦ —
Courtin' Murder in West Wheeling by Michael Allen Dymmoch
A Sheriff Homer Deters Mystery
Publisher: Diversion Books
Just because it’s off the beaten path doesn’t make it any kinder a place to die …
Sheriff Homer Deters has enough on his plate without a dead body turning up, especially one that's only bones. And while he has both nuptials and eviction impending, it looks like this case is going to fall under his jurisdiction.
Getting to the bottom of this is going to take him into the world of smuggling, the world of hijacking, and possibly a world of hurt. But with his tongue firmly in cheek and his demeanor never far from even-keeled, Homer Deters is the likeliest of unlikely heroes for West Wheeling.
— Courtin' Murder in West Wheeling by Michael Allen Dymmoch. Click here to take a Look Inside the book.
0 comments:
Post a Comment